


The Wedding

by soafterr



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Post-Mockingjay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soafterr/pseuds/soafterr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as they saw it, they were already more married than any piece of paper or big party could make them</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding

“And now, our Bride and Groom will have their first dance! Please welcome to the floor, the happy newlywed couple, Mr. and Mrs. Peeta Mellark!”

 

I try not to roll my eyes at the word “newlywed,” seeing as how we’ve been married for five years already. Just two years following the war’s end – a year and a half after Peeta and I finally grew back together – we decided to have a toasting.

 

But apparently, our private ceremony in the wee hours of a cold, autumn night wasn’t enough.

 

“Boy, do you think you’ll ever get used being called Mrs. Mellark?” Peeta whispers in my ear as we walk hand in hand to the dance floor. He’s trying to distract me with jokes because he knows how much I hate this. Knows how much I hate putting on a show for everyone else.

 

As soon as Effie caught wind of our toasting she let it slip to Plutarch, who has been insisting on a public, televised wedding ever since.

 

I told him to go to hell.

 

I wrap my arms around Peeta’s neck while his rest on my waist. We begin to dance the way Effie taught us on the Victory Tour. Slow, tiny steps that could fit on a pie plate. My wedding dress is much too big and fluffy and from the back of my neck to my lower back are about a thousand buttons. At the small of my back is a little, heart-shaped hole cut into the dress that shows my bare skin. Peeta circles his fingers in there the entire time we dance.

 

“Will you promise me something?” The cameras aren’t close enough to hear us, although I really don’t care what they catch me on tape saying. It’s not like I’m being threatened to do this like before.

 

The truth is, I decided to do it because I was told it would help bring unity to the people of Panem and reduce the chances of another Revolution or Hunger Games happening again. Actually, that’s not the whole truth. I decided to do it because I kept having haunting dreams of Prim telling me If I didn’t there would be an uprising and more dead children and all my fault, _all my fault._ I called Plutarch and agreed to it the morning after a particularly bad one. Shortly after, I tried to take it back but it was too late. I cried and stupidly yelled at Peeta for going to work and not being there to stop me. It was probably the most idiotic fight we’ve ever had.

 

The good news is all this footage is enough for them to back off for a long while – at least, that’s what they promise. It’s been 7 years since they last got footage of us, and I’ve told Plutarch to enjoy this while he can because the next photo op he gets will be at our funerals.

 

“What? Like a vow? I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment, Katniss…”

 

I can’t help but laugh, despite my mission to make this as miserable as possible for the viewers. One of my hands plays with the curls at the nape of his neck.

 

“Just promise that when you look back on your wedding day, you don’t think of today. Promise you’ll think of the two of us, next to our living room fireplace, dressed in pajamas, feeding each other burnt bread.”

 

“Am I allowed to think about the part _after_ the pajamas? Rug-burn and all?”

 

“Peeta,” I giggle and gently punch at his shoulder, “I’m being serious! Just promise that we never celebrate today’s anniversary.”

 

He lifts the hand that is in his hair, my left hand, to his face and presses a kiss to the ring finger. “I promise.” As he pulls the hand away, he makes a face at the ring Effie picked out. “Just promise me you will throw this away as soon as we get home and put on your real wedding ring.”

 

I kiss his cheek. “I promise.” The wedding ring Effie forced me to wear is almost the size of my hand, with nearly a hundred “precious gems” I couldn’t care less about. She let me wear the real ring around my neck though, attached the chain I keep Peeta’s pearl on. I’m not fond of jewelry, but I feel naked without my pearl necklace and wedding ring on.

 

One of his hands slides up my back.

 

“I’m going to have a lot of fun undoing all these buttons when we get home.” He smiles mischievously, “Wanna time me, Mrs. Mellark? I bet I can get this off in 30 seconds under the right conditions.”

 

I roll my eyes and laugh, because ever since I got into this dress he’s been acting like a newlywed.

 

I get up on my tiptoes, my lips grazing his ear, and whisper in my sexiest voice, “Let’s ditch this party and find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble I wrote a while ago, but this is my first time sharing it :)
> 
> follow me at soafterr.tumblr.com


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